


Self-Destruction, Interrupted

by st_mick



Series: Niffler [34]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Torchwood
Genre: Comfort of friends, Early days of friendship with Jack, Grief/Mourning, Ianto's a mess, Suicidal Tendencies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 00:24:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20787530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_mick/pseuds/st_mick
Summary: Jack and Owen help get Ianto cleaned up, and Jack and Ianto are able to offer apologies to one another.  After the Torchwood operatives leave for supplies, Luna and Harry call in Draco Malfoy (now a healer).  Once Ianto's condition is stabilized, they resolve to return to watch over him and help him through his time of mourning.





	Self-Destruction, Interrupted

“I love you both, but you need to go, now,” Ianto said, pulling up his sleeve. Before they could stop him, he plunged the scalpel into a vein in his forearm.

“_Confundo_!” Luna cried, before Ianto could open the vein any further. Harry expanded the bathroom slightly so there was a corner for them to hide in. They knelt down and wrapped themselves in the cloak again just as Jack broke open the door.

Owen rushed past Jack. “Goddammit, Tea Boy!” he shouted. Ianto blinked up at him absently, holding the scalpel in one hand, his other arm still raised. He had already cut himself once. He looked blotto. Owen took the scalpel away and then spotted the syringe. He pulled that out of Ianto’s leg and looked around for the bottle of sedative. It was a new bottle, so he was able to tell how much Ianto had injected.

Owen sighed. “The sedative must have hit him before he could do any real damage,” he said. “He took a lot, but it won’t do any harm. Help me get him on his feet, Jack. We need to clean him up.”

“Just leave me alone,” Ianto moaned miserably as the spell began wearing off. 

“Not a chance, Tea Boy,” Owen muttered as he bandaged Ianto’s arm before hastily putting away the spilled contents of his medical bag.

Jack and Owen lifted Ianto to his feet, then undressed him. Ianto was too stoned from the _confundus_ spell, the shock, and the drugs to be of much assistance. Owen left to retrieve a bin bag from the kitchen as Jack took off Ianto’s shoes and socks and set them aside, noting that even the socks had been soaked with blood. He stood and unbuttoned the shirt, muttering, “This is not how I pictured undressing you would go, Ianto.” 

Ianto looked into Jack’s face, surprised by the sorrow in the older man’s face. “’m sorry I called you a monster,” he said quietly.

“I shouldn’t have ordered you to kill her. That was wrong of me,” Jack said.

Ianto shrugged. “End of the world. You’re allowed to lose your temper.”

Jack frowned. “You’re not angry?”

Ianto shrugged again. “I am, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get that you are, too. I just… couldn’t let her go,” he sighed.

Jack pulled what was left of Ianto’s dress shirt off of him, trying to be careful of the new cut. He didn’t miss how raw the younger man’s hands were, from the cleaning marathon Jack had forced him to perform. Regret swept through him as he remembered angrily watching over Ianto as he broke down the conversion table, incinerated it and the bodies, and then scrubbed the room until it was spotless. 

He’d then directed Ianto to main part of the hub, where he scrubbed and straightened and fixed as much of what had been broken as he could. All told, it had taken more than twenty-eight hours, and the younger man had neither asked for nor been given a break, nor food or water or the toilet or a change of clothes. He did not stop, the entire time he scrubbed away the evidence of his failure, his transgression.

Jack realized that he had punished Ianto for something he would have done himself, had the half converted young woman been Rose, and had he not known the impossibility of reversing the conversion. 

He felt ashamed, because Rose would have done everything in her power to comfort the younger man, rather than punish him. He tossed the shirt aside and looked at Ianto. “I know it must have been hard, if she’s what kept you going, after.”

Ianto was swaying on his feet. “She’s the only reason I didn’t join Judith, that night,” he confessed quietly. “But looking after her was _so hard_,” he looked as though he was cried out, though Jack had yet to see any tears. “Jack…”

“Here you go, Tea Boy,” Owen brought in several bin bags, interrupting whatever Ianto had been about to say. “You hold him steady, Jack,” he said, once he’d bagged up the things Jack had tossed onto the floor, so far.

Jack kept Ianto leaned against the countertop and held him by the hips as Owen removed Ianto’s trousers and then peeled the filthy vest from his torso. Harry felt Luna’s sharp intake of breath, which matched his own. Ianto was painfully thin, his ribs and collarbones prominent.

Jack hissed and Owen swore when they saw the extensive bruising, as well as some nasty looking scars on his belly and thighs. “Ianto, what happened?” Jack asked, his hand hovering above the scars on the younger man’s abdomen without touching them. 

“Misspent youth,” Ianto slurred.

Owen shook his head when Jack looked to him. “He refused to tell me, when I spotted them during his initial physical,” he said. “Happened before he got to Torchwood, is all I can tell you, for sure, because there’s nothing in his record about it.” He lifted Ianto’s chin, taking a hard look at the handprint the cyber-woman had left when she had picked Ianto up and flung him across the hub. 

For his part, Ianto did everything in his power not to react when Owen pressed and prodded, checking for damage to his throat, broken ribs and other injuries. Ianto could have told him that there was extensive internal damage, from pulling his magic back into his body when it had started going crazy. He had drawn it so deep that no one would be able to see it – or recognize it, if they did see it – but doing so had done a great deal of harm. He had hoped for something quicker, but now all he could ask for was that no one would notice until it was too late…

“Jesus, Ianto,” Owen muttered as he examined the younger man. He’d had no idea there was so much damage. He looked at Jack, who was holding Ianto up and looking stricken. 

“I’m sorry, Ianto,” Jack whispered. “If I’d known…”

“Doesn’t matter.” Ianto couldn’t make himself care. “It’s done,” he said, hoping they’d just stop fussing.

Owen started the water and then stripped out of his clothes. He held Ianto up as Jack did the same. Both men were down to their boxers, and when the water was warm enough, Owen reached for Ianto’s boxer briefs. Ianto shrugged apologetically in Luna’s direction. Living in the Room of Requirement for most of a year, there were few enough secrets left among them all, but he was sure she hadn’t come looking to get an eyeful, either. “Can I just…”

“Nope. Maybe before you tried to top yourself. Twice. But not now.” Owen looked more concerned than angry, and it disconcerted Ianto. He wasn’t used to Owen acting like he cared. Any of them, for that matter.

He didn’t realize it, but he’d said that last bit aloud…

Owen and Jack shared a look, then helped him into the shower, and one held him up as the other gently washed him with a soft flannel. They had to use several, and it took quite a while to scrub him clean, both because they were being careful of his bruises, and because he was so filthy from the ordeal, and then the cleanup.

When they were done, Ianto stood shivering on the bath mat as they found two of his softest towels and gently dried him. It felt like sandpaper against raw skin, but he tried not to show the agony he was in. Truthfully, his trembling was more from pain than cold. They wrapped a towel around his waist and leaned him against the sink, one holding him up as the other dressed.

“All right, Jones,” Owen said in a quiet tone as he reached for his bag. He removed the wet bandage and applied another. “I’m going to sedate you. Properly, this time. Then, because you’re a stubborn fuck, we’re going to clear the place out, and take anything you might be inclined to use to do yourself harm. And then we’re going to leave you to yourself, for an hour or two. When we come back, we’re going to bring groceries, because there’s no food in the place, and we’ll install those cameras. And I’m going to check you over again, to see if you need something for pain or sleep. Got it?”

Ianto gave him a glassy-eyed blink, his expression disturbingly blank. There was a tension in his face that told Owen that the younger man was likely in pain, but he decided to let it go, for now. Maybe when he got back, Ianto would let him do something to help. But for now, rest was what he needed most. Owen quickly took several items from his bag and drew varying quantities of each into a syringe and injected the mixture into Ianto’s arm.

“Jack, go tuck in the Tea Boy, then pack up all his belts, ties, and anything else you think he might try to use.” Jack nodded and as he led Ianto out of the bathroom, Owen called after them, “And check his night table – pretty sure he’s got at least one gun squirreled away, here.”

Owen watched them leave the room, Ianto’s shuffling steps steadied by Jack. Leaning against the counter, he looked in the mirror, then away. “Damn it, Ianto,” he muttered. He reached under the cabinet and began rummaging through. Spare razors, scissors, and several grooming tools went into a new bin bag, along with the various cleaning supplies stored there. He glanced at the tub and gave it a quick scrub to remove the light pink residue clinging to the porcelain before trashing the towels and flannels and tossing the cleaner into the bag of things they’d eventually return.

Then he rummaged through the medicine cabinet behind the mirror over the sink. He took everything there except the dental floss, and he gave that a long, hard look before leaving it. Ibuprofen, paracetamol, some painkillers that Owen had given him a while back, for something or other. All of it went into the bag. He looked around the bathroom, trying to assess what else Ianto might use to do himself injury. When he was finally satisfied, he left the room, carrying the two bags. He leaned into the bedroom and in a low voice, he told Jack he’d check the spare bedroom, living room, and kitchen.

Jack had walked Ianto into his room, which was slightly less sparse and Spartan than the rest of the flat. After all, the young man had needed to unpack his clothing and at least some personal items. The bed was neatly made, a handsome river blue duvet cover contrasting pleasingly with the navy sheets that were, Jack noticed as he turned the bed down, of an extremely high quality.

He sat Ianto on the edge of the bed and, after checking to be sure he wouldn’t fall over, he stepped over to the chest of drawers and searched until he found a pair of pyjama bottoms and a soft, well-worn t-shirt. He came back to the bed and helped Ianto into the clothing, tossing the towel back towards the door for Owen to dispose of.

Ianto sat back down on the edge of the bed. As Jack reached out to help him lie down, he stayed Jack’s hand with his own. “Jack,” he whispered, the effort to speak clearly draining him of what little energy he still had.

Jack sat beside Ianto, turned towards him but not touching him. “Ianto.”

“I’m sorry I betrayed you. I just…” he sighed. “I couldn’t allow her to be executed. Not while she was still Lisa.”

“And when she wasn’t Lisa anymore?” Jack asked, his voice gentle.

“I… It was just too much to take in. Too much of a shock. One thing too many, after far too much, already. I couldn’t let myself believe it, or even admit it. So I did the only thing I know how to do, anymore.” He shrugged. “I kept fighting.”

Jack gave a rueful chuckle. “That you did.” He sighed. “You’re stubborn, I’ll give you that. Resourceful. And a hell of a fighter. Any other circumstances, I’d be impressed. Hell, once I get over my own shock, I _will be_ impressed.”

“Clever, manipulative, deceitful… That’s nothing to be impressed by, Sir. I betrayed you all, and it was all for nothing. She was terminally ill, and couldn’t be saved, and I was too stupid to realize how dangerous it was, even if she did still have her own mind.” He sucked in a breath. “I only prolonged her suffering, and I may as well have killed the others with my own hands,” he looked down at them, watching them tremble.

“No,” Jack reached out and took them, stilling them. “Ianto, you were in an untenable situation. The fact that you’re still sane is…”

“Am I?” Ianto asked, cutting him off. “It’s always been a bit of a question, you know. Among the people who know me.”

“Well, I doubt if the insane actually worry about their sanity, so I figure you’re safe, for now,” Jack answered, keeping his tone light, but realizing yet again that he did not know this young man. Before this incident, Jack would have said that Ianto was the most stable person he knew, because he was so well-adjusted, despite having experienced the fall of Canary Wharf. Looking at him now, he might still be inclined to say the same thing. Full of remorse and regret and grief and shame, yes. Suicidal, maybe. But still solid and articulate. Still worth getting to know better.

Jack resolved to help see Ianto through this.

He released Ianto’s hands. The younger man simply stared at them. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for anyone to be hurt. I didn’t mean to hurt the team. I didn’t mean to hurt _you_,” he finished with a whisper. “I really didn’t think I could, but clearly I did, and I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t think you could hurt me?” Jack frowned. “I thought we were becoming friends, if nothing else.”

“We were. That was real. It wasn’t an act, I promise.” He snorted. “For all my promises are worth, now.” He shrugged. “As for the rest… You flirt with everyone. I didn’t think flirting back would mean anything. To you.”

Jack looked closely at Ianto. “Are you saying it meant something, to you?”

Ianto shrugged again. “I fucked up, all the way around. There’s no one I didn’t betray, in all of this. Not even Lisa.” Ianto sighed. He wanted to cry. Needed that release. But the tears just wouldn’t come.

Jack sucked in a breath. Was Ianto saying… “What are you saying, Ianto?”

“I’m saying I’m sorry I hurt you. And I’m really sorry you won’t just kill me.”

“Ianto,” Jack began, his heart aching for his… friend. He didn’t finish his thought, because Owen leaned into the room, telling Jack he’d finish going through the rest of the flat to get rid of anything sharp or dangerous. Jack shuddered. Ianto had proved himself resourceful and inventive. He wasn’t certain they could stop him, if he stubbornly held onto this idea that he needed to die. He briefly considered taking Ianto back to the hub after all, but realized that would probably be counterproductive, at the moment.

Ianto was swaying, so Jack helped him lie down. He leaned close as Ianto whispered, “Caring for her kept me from falling apart, because of the battle. But your friendship is what kept me from falling apart, because of caring for her.” He looked away, fighting his shame. “Now I’ve lost both of you. I… I think I’m done, Jack.”

“For now, maybe,” Jack replied quietly. “That’s why you’re going to get some sleep. And when you wake, we’ll talk more, if you’d like. Or not. But you’re going to get through this, Ianto. And you don’t have to do it alone, any more. We’ll help you. _I’ll_ help you, if you let me.”

Ianto’s eyes fell shut and Jack straightened. He found a duffel bag under the bed and packed away belts, ties, any shoes with laces, and a variety of other things he thought might be dangerous to a suicidal mind. In the bedside table was a small Glock pistol. Jack tucked it into his belt and kept searching. He found a dark grey and yellow striped scarf in the wardrobe that looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it. He shrugged and added it to the duffle, along with several other scarves.

Once Jack and Owen finished searching the place, Owen checked on Ianto, who was not sleeping, but was not quite conscious, either. “Ianto, can you hear me?” When he got a mumbled reply, he went on, “We’re going, now, but we’ll be back in a few hours to check on you and put up some cameras.” He gave an unbruised portion of Ianto’s arm a squeeze and whispered, “Hang in there, kid.”

Owen left and Jack leaned over and kissed Ianto on the forehead. “We both have a lot to make up for. Me more than you, I think. I may be angry with you, but I’ll get past that. You haven’t lost my friendship.” He looked into bleary eyes, turned dark with pain. “Please let me help you, Ianto.”

Once they were gone, Luna and Harry came out from beneath Harry’s cloak. He handed it to Luna. “In case they come back,” he said, when she looked at him inquiringly. He pulled out his wand. “I’ll go get Draco. I think Nif’s more hurt than he’s letting on.” With that, he disapparated.

“Oh, Nif,” Luna sat on the bed beside Ianto and took his hand. 

He looked up at her miserably. “Can you just… let me be? Just for a few hours?” he pleaded.

Luna frowned. She wondered if he had another gun hidden, somewhere. Jack and Owen had found several, hidden away throughout the flat. “So you can try again?” she asked.

He shook his head and turned onto his side, though still facing her. He covered his mouth as he coughed, a wet, loose, worrisome sound. Luna handed him a tissue when he found himself too weak to reach for the box on the bedside table. As he lay back down, she grasped his wrist and took the tissue from him. “Luna,” he whispered. “Please. Just go.”

She looked at the tissue and confirmed that she had indeed seen blood when he wiped his mouth. “Nif, what is going on?” she asked, becoming frightened.

Just then, Harry apparated back with Draco. “All right?” Harry asked.

Luna shook her head and held out the tissue. “Draco, he’s coughing up blood,” her voice quavered as she spoke.

“Nif, what happened?” Draco knelt beside his friend as Luna got up to give him room to work. Harry had told him of Ianto describing how he had drawn his magic back into his body when it began getting out of hand. He opened Ianto’s eyes, one at a time, and saw they were glassy and unresponsive. “What is going on?” he looked up at Harry and Luna, his concern apparent.

They told him everything that had passed since their arrival, explaining about the suicide attempts, and the blow he took to the head and the sedatives. They also described what Owen and Jack had alluded to – the cyber-woman taking him by the throat and hurling him a fair distance. 

“Damn it, Nif,” Draco muttered, taking out his wand and speaking the incantations that would help him assess the damage. He was shocked by what he found. He reached into his bag – not unlike Owen’s, Ianto thought idly as he watched from what felt like a great distance. “Here,” Draco said, lifting Ianto’s head and pouring the first potion down his throat. 

“No,” Ianto tried to struggle. “Please, no,” he whispered. “Just let me go,” he cried.

Draco recoiled, looking up at Luna and Harry. Luna was weeping. Harry looked pale and grieved. Draco drew in a deep breath, attempting to steady himself. “You know I can’t do that, Nif. But what I can do is help you through this. We all will.”

It took seven different potions and a dreamless sleeping draught, but within the hour Draco had Ianto stabilized. “He’ll be all right. I can’t do anything about his bruises because the muggle doctor will be watching him closely, but all of the internal damage is in hand.” He took Ianto’s hand. “Nif? I’m going to bring you a course of potions, to continue to heal the internal damage. We’ve made a start today, but it will likely take a full course, maybe two, to get you fully healed. All right?”

Ianto nodded vaguely. 

Draco squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry about Lisa. She was a lovely woman.”

“We all liked her very much, Nif,” Luna added.

Ianto looked dully from one to the other. “I’m sorry. I thought I could save her.”

“We know,” Luna ran her hand through his hair, careful of the lump Jack had given him.

“She said yes,” he whispered, his eyes drifting shut as the sleeping draught finally took hold.

Luna let out a small sob and Harry swore under his breath.

“We probably shouldn’t be here when his coworkers get back,” Draco said, hiding behind his composure. “We can all start dropping in to visit, starting tomorrow, when it will be reasonable for him to have told us.”

“We should help him unpack,” Luna said. “I imagine he’s been pretty much living at Torchwood, looking after her.”

“We’ll all help,” Harry said. “I’ll make my report to Kingsley as soon as we return. He’ll probably want to debrief Nif.” He sighed. “I can’t believe no one would help him.”

“I wish he had come to me,” Draco said, looking sorrowful. “I could have helped him to realize… And maybe to…” he shook his head, not wishing to complete either thought. It would have been horrible, and he was almost glad Ianto had not sought him out, but it would have been better than this. This may very well be the thing to break his friend.

“By not asking you for help, he was protecting you,” Harry said quietly. At Draco’s questioning look, he continued, “The Ministry forbade any assistance. They decreed that the Battle of Canary Wharf was a muggle problem, and as such the wizarding world was not to provide any help to the survivors.”

“Not even when a wizard was one of those survivors?” Draco gestured to Ianto, outraged.

Harry shrugged. “It was complete bollocks, but Kingsley didn’t feel he could countermand the decision.”

“That’s twice Shacklebolt has sacrificed Nif to some political agenda,” Draco growled. “Bastard.”

“We should go,” Harry was not willing to agree, but couldn’t really disagree.

“I don’t want to leave him,” Luna said, drying her tears.

“Come on, Luna. We need to find his owl and divert her while they watch over him. We’ll spend as much time here as we can, starting tomorrow.”

“You, Ron and Hermione have been in meetings with Kingsley and Jack Harkness,” she said. At Harry’s surprised look, she said, “Hermione told us about it. You’ll have to disguise yourselves, somehow.”

Harry nodded.

Luna and Harry stayed long enough to find Ianto’s owl and send her to Luna’s for the duration of Ianto being under Torchwood surveillance. She figured that when they began arriving the next day, Torchwood would wonder how they knew, so she found Ianto’s phone, which had miraculously survived unscathed, and sent herself a text. _Lisa passed away yesterday. Please let everyone know for me._ Then she turned his phone off and called him twice, then texted him back with the appropriate sympathy and the promise to visit tomorrow, possibly with the others. She hoped it would seem very normal to the muggles.

***


End file.
